


Wrong Shade of Blue

by grunge_mermaid



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bisexual Julian Bashir, Getting Together, M/M, clueless disaster bi is clueless, handsy tailor is (consensually) handsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:22:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28866225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grunge_mermaid/pseuds/grunge_mermaid
Summary: Julian and Jadzia's uniforms are different shades of blue and Garak is offended. He insists on making a new uniform for Julian; Julian takes it as an opportunity to make a move.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	Wrong Shade of Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoodbyeBlueMonday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodbyeBlueMonday/gifts).



> spawned by a conversation on Discord about a pic from 2x10 (Sanctuary) that shows Julian and Jadzia's uniforms were different shades of blue.
> 
> I was hoping to have this done in time for Blue Monday for various reasons, but here it is one day late.
> 
> (as usual: not beta'd, please be gentle)

The replimat wasn’t particularly busy for lunchtime on a Wednesday, making it easy for Julian and Garak to claim their preferred table. As they sat down with their food, Julian immediately launching into a diatribe about this week’s Cardassian tome that was longer than the complete works of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky combined, plus the complete and unabridged _Never Ending Sacrifice._

Julian was passionately stabbing the air with his fork for emphasis when he noticed Garak looking past him.

“Ah, Lieutenant Dax!” Garak said jovially, interrupting Julian at such a crucial point in his argument that the doctor was certain he was attempting the old Earth “made you look” gag to distract him. So certain in fact that he almost jumped when Jadzia appeared next to him.

“Good afternoon, Garak. Julian, here’s the inventory of quarantined cargo from the Pakled ship that arrived this morning. They’ll need a decontamination sweep and shipping permits by 0800 tomorrow.”

“I’ll take care of it this afternoon.” Julian set down the PADD and thanked her. He was about to take a bite of his food when he noticed Garak gawking at both of them.

“Garak…are you alright?”

Jadzia had turned to leave, but came back to the table. “Is something wrong?”

“Lieutenant, Doctor, are you two aware that your uniforms are different shades of blue?”

“Are they?” Julian asked innocently. He could in fact see the difference and it annoyed him far more than it was currently annoying Garak, but admitting to it was more trouble than it was worth.

Jadzia shrugged and shook her head. Trills couldn’t discern discreet differences in colour quite as well as the average human, and certainly not as well as a Cardassian or secret augment.

“They look the same to me,” she said apologetically. Even if she could see the difference, no one could be less bothered by something so pedantic than Jadzia Dax.

“Do you mean to tell me that neither of you can tell the difference between these two completely different colours?” Garak sounded almost offended.

“Garak, it’s the same colour. Probably just a different bolt of fabric or a glitch in the replicators. Or it could’ve faded with wear.”

Garak reached across the table and rubbed the cuff of Julian’s uniform between his fingers, examining the fabric. “My dear, you know as well as I do that this uniform is brand new. And you may not be able to see the difference, but I can tell you with absolute certainty that yours is the wrong shade of blue, not the charming lieutenant’s here.”

Julian scanned the promenade. He could see 6 other science and medical officers, all of whom were wearing uniforms identical in colour to Jadzia’s.

“If the difference in colour is such an affront to your delicate tailor’s sensibilities, I’ll toss this in the reclamator after my shift,” he teased.

“Please do. But first, come by my shop and I’ll take your measurements for a new uniform. I have several bolts of Starfleet-issue fabrics, it’s far more durable and comfortable than those replicated uniforms you usually wear.”

“Garak, you already have my measurements. Can’t you just make the uniform from those?”

“Of course, my dear, but why deny an old man the little pleasures in life?”

Julian scoffed and rolled his eyes, but agreed. There wasn’t much he could refuse Garak, especially when his eyes twinkled like that, and he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t enjoy it at least as much as the tailor.

~~~

The entire fitting was infuriating, as always. The consummate professional, Garak kept his touches _just_ this side of proper, driving Julian up the wall. But Julian was determined to maintain his composure despite the blatant attempts to make him cave.

This cat and mouse game had been going on for months, since the first time Garak approached him at the replimat. Julian was rarely successful with women, but he had never had so much trouble with men. Or any other gender, for that matter. Usually all it took was an impish grin, a few perfectly innocent questions asked in a slightly suggestive tone while standing just a little too close, and maybe buying them a drink.

Garak would never be that easy, he knew that, nor would it be any fun if he were. That day in the replimat was the first time Julian had been the prey, not the predator, and it was a delicious challenge.

As the tailor measured his inseam, Julian decided to deploy the nuclear option or he would absolutely lose this game.

Feigning annoyance, he snapped “Garak, if all you wanted to do was feel me up, you could’ve just invited me to your quarters.”

It did not have the desired effect; Garak didn’t even look up from his measuring tape. “You’ve never accepted my past invitations, Doctor,” he said, smoother than silk and completely unruffled.

“Past invitations? Garak, what are you talking about?”

He knew that arguing was how Cardassians flirted and that their literary debates could be considered positively indecent at times, but Garak had never made a move beyond that and his slightly handsy fittings (that he made clear he enjoyed, and had on good authority that they were reserved for him only—Garak was far too professional and Odo would be overrun with reports of sexual misconduct if he behaved like that with anyone else), but he was certain there hadn’t been any “past invitations” or else he would have accepted immediately.

“Do you remember what I said to you when we first met?” Garak was forcing a patient smile, as he often did when explaining Cardassian poetry.

 _Obviously,_ Julian thought to himself. Instead of quoting verbatim, he said, “something about enjoyable company, but I thought that’s what our lunches were?”

Garak barked out a laugh. “ _Enjoyable company_? Is that how it translated?” Still chuckling, he switched off his translator and hissed lasciviously in Julian’s ear. Julian had no idea what Garak said, but whatever it was sent shivers down his spine. Switching his translator back on, Garak continued, “does not mean _enjoyable company,_ my dear boy, it means _enjoyable company._ ”

Julian quirked an eyebrow. Still slightly dazed by Garak’s breath on his neck a moment ago, it was hard not to be amused by the persistent translator error. He may not have the upper hand, but at least the playing field had been levelled again. “It’s still translating as _enjoyable company._ ”

“ _Enjoyable company…enjoyable…”_ Garak was now muttering to himself, as he resumed taking measurements, his mouth moving differently with every word but every phrase still translating the same.

Grinning, Julian shooed him away and dressed quickly. “Garak, you already have my measurements.” He laid his hands on Garak’s shoulders, letting his fingers gently rest tantalizingly close to his neck ridges. “And clearly, the translator isn’t cooperating. Why don’t you come by my quarters after closing the shop and show me exactly what you mean?”

Garak’s neck ridges and chufa flushed blue for a moment. “Is the translator still malfunctioning?”

“Not if that translated as anything remotely close to what you hissed in my ear.”

“I assure you, my dear, it certainly did. I think I may have to close early tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am determined to always give Garak the last word.
> 
> This fic kept wanting to go to smutty places I didn't want to write, so if anyone wants to take this as a prompt, good luck and godspeed!


End file.
